Imprisonment
by Hawkeye116
Summary: The war is over, but it is a hollow victory. Everyone is gone, and she feels she has no one left. That is, except for one she'd trusted, once. [Zutara, Post Season Finale, Post War, SPOILERS]
1. Part One: Pacing, Traveling

A/N: I originally intended this to be a long one-shot, but then decided to split it up a bit, to make a multi-chaptered thingymabob. It's based off the Season Finale, so beware of abundant spoilers. It takes place in the post-war era, too, so you know. And it's also my first attempt at writing actual Zutara-centric stuff rather than just Zutara-subplot stuff for quite a while.

Disclaimer: Well, given that this is fanfiction and I am using the characters and setting from an animated television show Avatar: The Last Airbender, is it right to say that I own none of the literary, artistic, and dramatic genius (and resulting creations) of Mike DiMartino and Bryan Koneitzko? …I thought so.

* * *

Imprisonment

Part One:  
Pacing, Traveling

* * *

The cell is small, about five paces in length and four in width; its walls are a dark black impenetrable metal, too durable to simply be melted away with fire. The only thing that connects the interior of the room and, conjunctively, its prisoner to the outside world, is the door. A door of the same metal as the walls, hinges on the outsides so that it might not be broken down, with a barred window the size of the prisoner's head. It is large enough so that he might glance down the hallway some distance if he ever hears footsteps ringing in the corridor outside his cell; but even against the door, his field of vision isn't that much. 

From what he can see through the window, and from the thick, lingering silence he hears in the place, he is led to believe that there is no one imprisoned close to him. He wonders if he is the only one to be jailed in this place; but surely his sister has been locked up and put behind bars as well. Or maybe she's just being held somewhere else with more security, because she's more of a threat to the world. Perhaps he is just so insignificant that his jailers decided to lock him up in an abandoned prison and let him starve, leaving his body to rot throughout the ages.

He's not quite sure where is, but he doesn't really care about his exact location, either. All he knows is that he has enemies, and they have triumphed over him. He has failed for the last time. His life is lost; his existence is without purpose. All he can remember is something about the final battle: the solar eclipse and the comet arriving at once, so that the Firebenders are at their most powerful and their weakest; the death of his father; the wrath of the Avatar State gone crazed; the slaughter caused by Azula; her capture as the power of the comet faded; Uncle, beloved Uncle, as he was lost from Zuko's sight in the fighting; a thud on the back of his neck and then the recollection of nothing afterwards.

He is unsure how long he has been unconscious, or what has happened exactly besides his obvious removal from the battlefield and his imprisonment. No one has spoken to him; no one but guards have come to his cell, and he refuses to eat the food that has been brought. He is alone, alone, alone, more alone than when he betrayed Iroh, more alone than when he left Azula, more alone than when the Avatar rejected him completely, vowing to kill him if he tried to come in contact with his small posse.

Empty, lost, without purpose, without emotion, utterly abandoned and alone, the broken Prince of the Fire Nation sits in his cell and stares vacantly at the metal walls that surround him. And, even as his heart tells him to have hope, he waits for death to snatch him up in its greedy grasp.

--

She is so consumed with sorrow that she has run out of tears; her losses are great, her grief greater, and her strength greatest. Refusing to cry ceaselessly in public, she shows almost no feeling. Her reputation and position is highly regarded and respected. People and soldiers who fought in the final battle (and lived) offer her their greatest condolences. The Earth King and the Council of Five are kind to her, gifting to her a separate, private apartment with lavish décor and enough space to house a family of six. They spend vast amounts of money on the funerals and memorial services of all those close to her, and not just the Avatar. Each of the deceased is honored with the most traditional, most revered way.

Toph, the blind Bei Fong girl, perhaps the greatest Earthbender to have ever walked the earth, is preserved with the finest balms and adorned in the clothing of a Queen. She is buried alongside the Earth Kings, confirming her forever as a near, if not total, goddess **(1)**.

Sokka, the warrior youth of the Southern Tribe, her brother, son of Chief Hakoda, is dealt with in the proper, most formal way as well. His body is preserved like Toph's. The corpse is placed in a richly decorated Earth Kingdom gondola and is set out to sea from the northernmost tip of Kyoshi Island.

Hakoda, Chief of the Southern Tribe, her father, is blessed and revered the same way his son is. His body is preserved and is placed in a gondola alongside his son's. The father and son duo sail away on one last trip, one more sea expedition. Except this time, the destination is a far more surreal place, and they won't be coming back: the Spirit World calls.

Appa and Momo, the loyal pets and animal guides of the Avatar, are written about in many epic poems; murals painted on the walls of the Earth Palace and all along the inner walls of Ba Sing Se insure that the two will always be remembered, as long as the Impenetrable City stands. The two animals are cremated and their ashes are distributed around a garden stretching along the wall that contains the Upper Ring; the flowers that bloom there are spread across the Eastern and Southern Air Temples. The petals of the flowers that bloom will be tossed into the wind from atop the highest spire of each of the Temples, scattering them across the encompassing mountain ranges.

Aang, the Avatar and the last Airbender to live, is dealt with in the most formal way of all. Earthbenders raise a rock at the site of his death in the Fire Nation capital as well as the center of Ba Sing Se. The two giant rock formations bear half of an epic yet simple epitaph on them. On the Eastern memorial in the Fire Nation, the characters read: _Avatar Aang, the last Airbender, ended a terrible war and died at this very site._ On the Western Memorial in Ba Sing Se, the characters read: _Monk Aang, the only remnant of the Air Nomad peoples, gave the world hope and will be remembered forever in our hearts._ His body is blessed and preserved, and then cremated in traditional Fire Nation ceremony. His ashes are let loose in the wind, where they fly off to the mountaintops and down to the ocean and away to the most far reaches of the world, soaring freely in the great expanse of sky.

Their funerals and celebrations-of-life ceremonies are grouped closely together; they take place all within a month of each other's occurrence. They are tiring to her body and wearying to her soul; for so many have died, and the never-ending condolences only serve as a constant reminder of their deaths. Katara has run out of tears to cry, run out of grief to sow, run out of the endless remorse she thought she had. She has run out of a lot of things within the past month, and tears and grief are but minor losses in comparison to the other essential things now missing from her soul.

She feels as though she has no one left, for there is no family left whom she's been familiar with for the better part of a year. Her friends made along her journey before the last battle are kind, but they have their own sorrow to partake in, their own problems to fret over. Her mind wanders and wanders for a solution; she knows of one who is still yet alive, one who, for a brief time she had trusted, for a brief time, might have been a close friend.

But the past is the past, and that cannot be changed. She only has the future to change. And, though the past may be the past, potential is still potential. She had seen the goodness in his heart, thought he had changed, and was stricken with sadness when he betrayed his own goodness, his own heart.

The past is the past, and the past is _in_ the past. This is here, now, when a war does not separate them and a best friend does not try to stop her rash decisions. Her heart yearns for someone to share her hollowed days with; and so she turns to the only one she has left: Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, Heir to the Throne, who lies broken and alone in a cold, long forgotten prison.

--

It is difficult to locate exactly where the Prince is. She knows vaguely that he had been imprisoned in a nondescript place in the Earth Kingdom after the final battle, separated from his sister and taken out of his homeland, the Fire Nation. Using her respected position and personal favors from the Earth King and, additionally, the Council of Five, someone finally tells her where she might find who she seeks. He is being held just out of Ba Sing Se in a small prison that hasn't been used for many, many years, guarded by an undersized group of Earthbenders, and paid absolutely no attention. She hopes he is being fed, but the thought escapes her as the train she is riding in pulls through the outer wall of Ba Sing Se; she experiences an instant relief, a sort of escape from the haunting walls of the Impenetrable City.

The train takes her only so far; it stops at a wharf that opens up to a bay sealed off by the Serpent's Pass. She does not ride the ferries present, instead choosing to ride an ostrich-horse out for privacy, to avoid the curious glances she had pretended not to notice on the train. The ostrich-horse has a defiant personality, often stopping to snatch up a shrub here or there, or take a long draft out of a puddle to slake its thirst. Katara does not mind about the animal's disobedient antics, for she feels that she is, in a way, not prepared for the encounter that is to follow after her arrival, and she will take any excuse to prolong the time before she sees him.

It is nightfall and a light drizzle has started when the enormous metal structure appears in front of her on the horizon. She _would_ bend the water out of her clothing, but really, she doesn't mind the rain. She finds it calm and tranquil and soothing, a sort of consistent lullaby from a childhood long past that can still serenade her to peace of mind, even after she has grown up. The drizzle continues as her leisurely journey seems to stretch on forever and ever; just as she imagines the silence will, in her encounter with the one she seeks to share her final days with.

* * *

1: Earth Kings are considered demi-gods by their subjects. According to the Nick website, "Earth Kings traditionally renounce any personal name, thereafter referred to only by their title or 'Your Majesty,' and are considered by their subjects as almost god-like in stature." 


	2. Part Two: Grieving, Fleeing

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update, but I've been writing for some of my other fics and I've been busy. Finally got around to writing the second half of this part this morning, so, yeah. Sorry if it's a bit short.

Also: _eleven reviews_!? That's a lot, man. I never get that much when I first publish a story. You guys spoil me. Thanks so much to all of you!

Disclaimer: This is obligatory, I suppose. Maybe I'll just not include it anymore, except in the first chapter. Yeah, that works. Please refer to the disclaimer of the part one if you wish to know the obvious.

* * *

Imprisonment

Part Two:  
Grieving, Fleeing

* * *

He has been lying there, slumped against the wall, stripped of all royal esteem he might have had not a few days ago. Or perhaps he has been here much longer; maybe he has been here for days and days, unattended to and uncared for. He thinks that he waiting for his death to come; but he still has his insolent pride, and he refuses to speed up the wait. To take one's own life out of self-pity and depression is not honorable, nor is it smart. Zuko has been at the very apex of society and at the very bottom of it as well; he has experienced all forms of life and has learned to cling to some form of hope. Hope is what gets the impoverished people through their lives; hope is what kept him going as a Prince, an exile, a fugitive, a traitor. 

So, when he hears the soft clinking of shoes on metal, his ears perk up instantly. Relying on that one part of himself that keeps him going on, that hope and pride, he stands himself up and awaits the person coming. Even if the person should simply pass by, that person will acknowledge him; he will force the person to recognize and accept his existence. _I am a prince_, he reminds himself, and he is without fear and with hope as the footsteps approach closer and closer, resounding louder and louder.

The footsteps are not that of a burdensome metal boot characteristic of a guard, or the heavy footfalls of a man. They are light pitter-patters, but still with a definite sense of presence, a self-confidence that proclaims: _Hear me! For I am here; I will speak, and you must listen._ They're footsteps that could intimidate, if they are intended to. But he doesn't hear the stomping, noisy form of footfall that might be associated with intimidation. Rather, they are quiet, but still loud; gentle, but still confident and firm.

Zuko sees the blue robes, the darkened skin, and the azure eyes that have mixed emotions in them. He is not quite sure what to think of it. Though his brain has already analyzed her outfit, her appearance, and provided him with an identity, his mouth cannot find words to speak. Instead he merely stares, not so shocked that he is panicked, but somewhat that he is surprised by her presence. In her gaze he senses animosity and amity, callousness and pity, coldness and warmth. The emotions are so contradictory, so confusing, that he cannot make anything of it. And so he stays apathetic, for his pride tells him that he should hate her and his hope tells him that he should trust her.

She lingers in the corridor for a moment or two, and then withdraws a key. Before opening the door, she tells him sharply, "Stay back, and don't try to escape. I will not be afraid to use full force against you." The Waterbender inserts the key in the keyhole and turns it, opening the door, opening Zuko's closed, confined cell back to the outside world. Another human, another person who can speak and keep him company, who can tell him what has happened, how long he has been here, who he is.

Keeping one hand on her water pouch, the Waterbender pushes the door open a bit more. She stares him down, positioned in an offensive stance. He backs up to the far wall of the cell, putting a few paces between them.

"Zuko," the Waterbender says softly. Her stance loses some of its intensity and her eyes gain warmth. Silence hangs in the air, but it is not a bad silence. It isn't entirely warm, but it isn't cold and hostile, either. It's a nice tepid silence, and he is all right with that.

There are so many emotions and thoughts in discrepancy with one another that bounce around his head and flounce around his heart. Hope pressures him about trust, about companionship, about being able to relate to the only human he's come in contact with for such a long, long time. But his heart remembers, recalls the loss: where has his beloved uncle gone? What has happened to the old Dragon of the West? And that is where his trust lies, and that is where his heart lies as well.

"Uncle," he says slowly, hoarsely. He hasn't spoken in many, many days. "Where is Uncle? What has happened to him?"

The young woman who stands opposite him bows her head; she seems wearied, he notices. It has taken him a bit to realize it; his initial reaction to her was that she was the same annoyingly hopeful person as what little he knew of her. But now he sees the weariness in her eyes, hears the hollowness in her voice as she tells him, "He fought valiantly. He was a good man."

And then his heart clutches at itself, trying not to tear apart from grief. He grasps at his chest, as if that might contain his heart and right it back to what it was. But it is too much, too much after all that has happened. He falls backward and hits the wall behind him, hitting it hard. The impact sends a loud echoing noise through the cell and the corridor outside; but he can't hear the noise or the Waterbender's words. His heart is beating too quickly, too noisily; the blood pulsates in his ears and he can hear nothing else but his heart, beating, beating, beating, hammering in his chest as he drowns in grief.

--

Her eyes widen. "Zuko!" she exclaims as his bodies crashes into the far wall and crumples to the ground. He is nothing like she remembers; no fierce, hateful gaze; no menacing, antagonist stance, ready to fight her and knock her into oblivion; none of that noble goodness and morality in his heart that she'd seen briefly, so very fleetingly. There is only sadness, terrible, all-consuming lament; a broken, emptied shell of a person clutching his heart in shock and weeping silently. He doesn't respond to her call, but stays on the floor, face obscured from her vision by shaggy black hair that has fallen out of its topknot **(1)**.

Her hand uncorks the water pouch, streaming some of the water around her hand. She takes the few paces between her and him with two large strides, collapses on her knees half a pace away from him. He looks at her through eyes stained by emotional turmoil; she brings her water-covered hand up to his forehead, cooling off his face and cleaning it of all the dirt and grime and dried blood and tears. Katara has heard from the guards that he has been here for about two days, the first of which he was completely unconscious. He hasn't been cleaned up or fed or talked to in a while; she pities him, because he is so destitute, deprived of everything in his life, locked up and so, so alone.

He is like her, in a way. Lost everything, but still living. _It's not fair to have to suffer like this_, she thinks. _We should have just died along with the rest of them._

--

As the soothing hand finally draws away from face, he stares up at her, seemingly have gained back some of his sanity. Iroh is gone, but she is here; she is human; she is company; she is someone to talk to after talking to no one else for so long.

"Why are you doing this for me?" His voice is hoarse and hard to take notice of; it is barely present, and he sees her strain to hear it. Zuko's eyes narrow. He wonders if perhaps she is still an enemy…?

Her expression is soft, her smile weak and somewhat forced. She looks at him, but her eyes are clouded. She is looking through him rather than at him, reminiscing about some sentimental moment that is unknown to him. Zuko's heart strains again, and he exhales quickly, as if someone has punched him right in the gut. That feeling, that terrible feeling of destitution—so he's not the only to experience it.

"…You're the only one left, aren't you?" he asks slowly.

She breathes in shakily. "I'm sorry," she forces out, "but I have to go."

She jolts out the door and closes it loudly, letting the metal sound ring eerily in the empty corridor.

He jumps up and stares out the small barred window. Zuko can't be sure, but he swears he hears a soft voice saying, "I'll be back soon" as his hands press against the door. Wishful thinking was never good for him, though. He vows to forget about it and drops back to the floor, soon falling asleep to escape the pain and misery.

That's when the first nightmare strikes.

* * *

1: About the topknot: Azula wouldn't keep Zuzu around so long if she didn't want something from him. In this story, he stayed with her until the final battle when they were both captured by the good guys and imprisoned. So, if he stayed with Azula, it can be inferred that he isn't a traitor to the Fire Nation and thus gained the right to wear a topknot again. That is, Azula pretty much told him he could have it back when she told him he gained his honor back. 

You're all probably like WTF that's wrong. Well, here's the catch: in this story, _he was stupid enough to believe her._


	3. Part Three: Dreaming, Learning

A/N: I know it's a bit late, but Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Happy Winter Solstice, everyone! I got the Avatar video game and it's quite fun; I blame that for my late update. Heheh.

This chapter is a bit fillerish more than anything, but it answers some questions and fills in the plot holes that have been lingering around. Fear not of the OCs, for they are minor and unimportant and serve the only purpose of telling the reader what's going on in the outside world.

May I apologize in advance for less than stellar writing. It's okay though, so it's still worth reading. :)

Disclaimer: See chapter one disclaimer.

* * *

Imprisonment

Part Three:  
Dreaming, Learning

* * *

The dinner with the three guards is mostly uneventful, with a dull meal far from a culinary masterpiece fit for an Earth King: rice, a roll harder than rock, and a small slab of meat, and with a cup of grimy, suspicious-looking water to top it off. It's been two hours since her encounter with Zuko, and she's regrouped a bit, freshened up. As she is lost in thought and munching her way through her rice, one of the guards speaks to her. 

"Lady Katara," he murmurs courteously, his voice a deep tenor that resounds in the pit of her stomach, "If you don't mind my bluntness, I'd like to ask you something." His dull, dirt brown eyes seek her approval. She notes the mop of unkempt hair atop his head; the olive skin that looks so dry and leathery; his calloused, large hands that remind her of her father's; the stubble around his chin that indicates he hasn't shaved in a couple days. Looking to be about thirty years old, the guard is tall, burly, and intimidating. He looks incredibly tired, but still good-natured.

She doesn't speak a word, but nods in approval as she sets her rice bowl on the table. The guard smiles in thanks, and it is bright and welcoming compared to his sharp face and hardened features.

"What my inquiring mind so wishes to know," he continues, "is why you're here. The Prisoner down in the dungeon has only been here a couple of days; the Generals have been moving him around to different prisons in the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom for about a month now, and I was wondering if you're here to take him away to someplace else."

Katara glances at the Earthbender pensively. "Well, Mister—" She pauses, waiting for a name to call him by.

He laughs a bit. "Of course, of course, you'd want to be formally introduced to us if you're staying for a bit. I'm Jiang." Jiang flashes her a smile, and then turns to his left and pats a gray-haired man in the shoulder. "This old-timer is Yuan, and he's probably lived longer than your granddad."

"Well hi there," greets Yuan.

"And that lovely lady over there, Miss Ming, is probably the most stunning and deadly woman you'll ever meet." Jiang grins at Ming.

Katara looks at the woman sitting across from her; Ming is only a few years older than Katara herself, probably about eighteen or twenty. _Jiang's right_, Katara notes, as she sees Ming's striking green eyes and soft auburn hair.

Ming snorts and rolls her eyes in response to Jiang's comment. "Don't listen to Jiang; he's an absolute idiot who says a lot of nonsense." She takes a sip of her water, and makes a face as she swallows. "This crap is absolutely awful—we've got to take it up with Tao or something."

Katara smiles softly; she thinks she'll get along with Ming very well. Ming reminds Katara a lot of Toph, for some reason.

"And Tao's the only guy not with us. He's the leader of our little group; right now he's guarding The Prisoner as we speak," finishes off Jiang.

"The Prisoner? That's what you call Zuko?" Katara inquires.

"Oh, you know him personally? None of that 'Fire Lord' trash everybody else calls him?" Jiang asks.

Katara shakes her head. "Not really. Well, sort of. But it's a long story. I guess that kind of brings me back to your question, though. I'm not here to take Zuko away. I'm here because—" She stops speaking for a moment, contemplating and wondering about the answer to the question. "I'm actually not quite sure why I'm here," she says softly, almost so that no one can hear her.

"You were a personal acquaintance with the late Avatar, right?" asks Jiang.

Katara bites her lip. "Yes." She tries to fight the memories back, but it is like trying to fend back a thousand Firebenders all at once, like trying to make the wind stop blowing and the tides to stop coming in. She closes her eyes quickly, trying to keep her cool. It's not working.

She hears a sharp slap, and then Ming hisses, "Real smart, idiot! Way to bring up a touchy subject."

For only the second time she's ever heard him speak, Yuan says slowly, "His loss was for th' greater good o' th' world. You've suffered much, Lady Katara, and I'm sorry for your losses; but you should know that your kindly acts won't go unseen. Th' Spirits see all, y'know?"

Katara nods slowly through her watered-up eyes, soothed by the odd combination of great wisdom and roughly spoken language. Yuan's voice is hoarse and scratchy, and his mannerisms in speaking are enough to indicate to Katara that Yuan has been raised as a poor farmer's son, probably somewhere far outside of Ba Sing Se.

There is a moment of silence that hangs over the small dining table, oppressive and strange but not too awkward. Jiang thinks otherwise though; with an abrupt change of subject, he brightens the environment just a little. The discussion is something about politics, but Katara doesn't really hear it.

She thinks she will never understand politics, even if she's been a close friend of the Avatar. Down in the South, in her home, there is no politics, really. It's just her tribe and seal blubber jerky and penguin sledding and lots of old tribal traditions. There is no backstabbing or friendships torn apart over the gain of power in the South. It is a much simpler lifestyle, one she longs to go back to but is apprehensive of what it might hold for her.

"But then who's ruling the Fire Nation now? Some nobleman or something?" wonders Jiang aloud. Katara tunes in to the conversation, curious in the direction it has headed.

"Actually," Ming remarks smugly, "I heard it was a _woman_." She takes another bite of her rice, a thin smirk pasted on her face as she swallows the food.

"Yea, th' daughter o' th' old Fire Nation Governor o' Omashu. Surprisingly, she's loyal to th' Earth King for some reason," Yuan informs them.

Ming laughs. "She was tired of her duties, so she went to the Earth King in hopes of not being bored. Can you believe it? He and the Council of Five appointed her as Regent or something like that because the remainders of the Royal Family are locked up."

"Mai is the ruler of the Fire Nation? But she's Azula's subordinate!" Katara declares.

"Well, naturally, she'd have plenty of Earth and Water Nation advisors, I suspect," Jiang states as though it is the most obvious fact in the world.

"Yea, and they do a lot o' work to aid her, but it'd be outright anarchy if there was anyone but a Fire Nation at th' head o' th' country. Th' Earth King had to do it," Yuan says seriously.

"Speaking of things we have to do, someone needs to feed The Prisoner. I did it this morning," states Ming matter-of-factly.

"I'll do it," says Jiang without argument.

Katara raises an eyebrow in confusion, remembering Zuko's frail body, looking as though he'd been starving. "You've really been feeding Zuko?"

"Well, yes and no," Ming comments.

Jiang sighs, shakes his head. "We give him food, but he doesn't eat it. Seems like he's lost his will to live and is slowly killing himself, if you ask me."

Katara's mouth opens as if she's going to say something, but she stops herself, thinking it over, and instead says something else. "Jiang," she says confidently, staring straight into the middle-aged Earthbender's eyes, "Let me do it."

Katara hopes to do the impossible: to cheat Death of its catch.


	4. Part Four: Hoping, Pleading

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update, but the email alerts weren't working, so I didn't want to update until they did. Anyway, here's the next part. A bit short, but I like it.

Disclaimer: See part one.

* * *

Imprisonment

Part Four:  
Hoping, Pleading

* * *

He sways weakly, tearing his eyes from side to side, but all he can see is blood and fire and red and Uncle's maimed corpse and oh Agni he is going to be _sick_… 

He exits the dreamscape and rolls over to his side, coughing up spit and bile. Breathing heavily, he presses his palms flat on the cold metal floor, opening his eyes and trying to adjust to the darkness. Zuko has been sleeping for some time, but for how long, he is unsure. He is sick and haunted and weak and starving, and all he wants to do is die. Pride refuses to let him take his own life, so he waits: the day will finally come when his body will shut down from lack of food. Either that or his will to live shall. Death is imminent, he surmises, and is stunned somewhat when his door squeaks open and blinding light pours into his cell.

It is like looking into the greater part of the After Life, the entrance to the Spirit World: and, contained within its sacred beams stands an angel, a savior come to redeem his soul.

But as his eyes adapt to the brighter light, as his pupils close, he sees it is just the Waterbender. She is no angel, and he is not to be redeemed. Why can't she leave him alone in his grief? He wants to curse her very presence, be rid of her pity, tear her kindly soul from her body and kill her, she who is the origin of his guilt and grief.

But that would mean more fire, more red, more blood, and he does not wish to live out his nightmares during his waking hours.

--

Katara stays back a bit, gauging his power against hers, her vantage point compared to his on the floor. Both her hands are clasped around the edges of a tray loaded with food, but her water skin weighs heavily at her side. She has something to bend should the situation become dire: she'll be all right by herself. She's faced worse, anyhow.

Carefully, she steps into the cell. About two paces away from him, she sets down the tray of food, bending down to her knees and staring him in the eye. His golden eyes are weak and dying, but they still contain a great pride; do not pity me, they tell her. I am not one to be pitied.

"Please," she whispers, blue eyes bright, "Eat."

The eyes are hard and cold quite suddenly; a strange expression contorts Zuko's face, his scar a deep red, dark against his pale skin. He clenches his teeth, his jaw set, and the muscles in his face tense to display either fury or tough indecision. He brings himself into a sitting position, not blinking once, and stares her down, keeping the same face the whole time.

"Zuko," she pleads softly. "Eat." She pushes the tray forward, holding out a pair of chopsticks in her hand.

Zuko shakes his head. "No," he tells her, "I will not eat."

"Don't do this, you fool!" Katara hisses, her temper starting to fire up. "You're just going to kill yourself if you keep starving yourself like this."

A low rumble resounds from the pit of Zuko's lungs, and it takes a moment for Katara to realize that he is growling, anger bubbling to the surface.

"Eat!" she says forcibly, slapping the fingers of his right hand with the chopsticks.

"Ow," he mutters, drawing his hand back and cradling it against his chest. He refuses to look at her, denies her the chance to show him pity and mercy or a path to redemption.

Katara crosses her arms irritably, but lets it go. Her face slowly loses its menace, as if she understands something for the first time. Her features soften, and her heart opens in sympathy to the hopeless creature before her.

"Please eat," she begs him, inching the tray forward with a finger or two.

"Why should I?" he snaps, but he is unable to hide the weakness in his voice.

"Because," Katara says slowly, "if you do not eat, then your funeral shall be tomorrow; and mine, the day after yours."

He looks at her curiously, seeing her in a new light. She is not all he thought she was.

He reaches out to her outstretched hand and takes the chopsticks; and slowly, ever so slowly, he takes a bite of the rice.

Katara exhales in relief: she will not be dying anytime soon.

--

As she lies down on the straw mattress to rest, she contemplates many things.

She wonders about what life would be like had Aang lived. She sees, as though a vision of a separate future, a life where she and he travel the world together, the greatest of companions. As they age and mature, secrets are revealed and thoughts begin to liken: they fall in love, and finally, finally, Aang asks her to marry him. Tears stream out of Katara's eyes as she watches, nothing but a spectator of a life gone by, a dear chance lost. For, in the vision, their children are _beautiful_.

Flipping over to her side, Katara ponders other things: what if, what if, what if. Her thoughts and dreams are all great what-ifs, beautiful, fulfilling lives for her. In one, she becomes a Queen; in another, she births the next Avatar; in a third, she _is_ the Avatar.

A final situation that her mind creates sends her reeling: she envisions that Zuko had stayed true in Ba Sing Se. She sees how his Uncle becomes Aang's Firebending Sifu. She learns how Sokka and Zuko become fast friends through a heated rivalry. She observes how Zuko and Toph are like siblings. She sees how she and Zuko become lovers, and how he takes her for a wife, and how she becomes the Fire Lady, of all things to become.

She buries her head in her hands and cries to herself. What if, what if, what if…

Still having hope can never bring back Aang or make real her dreams, no matter how much she wishes. What-ifs are futile.

Life is cruel.


	5. Part Five: Trusting, Rebelling

A/N: I KNOW that I'm the most inconsistent updater EVER. I'm so sorry. I've had the first half of this chapter in my computer for several weeks now, and I noticed there really was no plot whatsoever. So, in this part, that changes. Sorry if it seems sudden or abrupt. And though Tao is extremely loyal and will do anything to protect the interests of his Nation, please keep in mind that he is a good person.

Disclaimer: Avatar NOT MINE. Plot NONEXISTANT, BUT MINE. OCs BAD (Well, I guess so...). So, really, OCs MINE.

* * *

Imprisonment

Part Five:  
Trusting, Rebelling

* * *

Days pass. The ostrich horses sip water from the sparse puddles in the plains and desert. The red-tailed hawks in the sky soar gratefully, dancing through thin cirrus clouds, so whippy and white they are like falling snow. The browning grasses and wild shrubs that spring up around the prison's walls grow in the late summer sunlight. The sun rises at dawn and sets at dusk. Yue flies cheerily into the night sky, playing with the stars, a spirit at peace now that her loved one is finally with her. 

Life goes on.

Katara's does not.

She feels as though time likes to single her out and throw her into the thin space between the Spirit and Mortal worlds, where the minutes pass so slowly so that an hour could easily be an entire lifetime. Katara tries and fails to live regularly, to make plans for _after all this is over_ and _when I go back to living in the South Pole_. Her ways are set in stone here. For, though it has been only a week, she has been here her entire life.

The naïve, happy-go-lucky girl who thought herself mature is a different life, a younger life that ended so cruelly and strangely at fourteen.

The confident Master Waterbender who acted as Sifu to the Avatar is also a different life, an exhilarating life that was terminated at Summer's End, a life that was harsh but not nearly as harsh as her life now.

---

She gathers the food aimlessly on a tray, thanking Tao. It is his shift now for the kitchen; he will be preparing dinner later tonight, but he has had Zuko's food ready for a good portion of an hour. Katara mutters quietly that she won't be joining Tao and the others for dinner tonight because she has other business to attend to.

Tao smiles wearily at her. "Lots of correspondence with the Earth King lately, right? There've been enough messenger hawks here in the past three days to start a rookery," Tao jokes. It is a feeble attempt, however, and Katara stares past him with hollow eyes.

"Yes," she explains abruptly. "The Earth King is concerned for my Tribe and I. Diplomatic nonsense that would bore you if you had to hear it. Don't worry about me. Thank you for the food," she says shortly, indicating the extra rice bowl on the tray.

Katara turns to leave, balancing the cold metal tray on one hand while she opens an equally cold metal door.

Tao's voice cuts through her focus like a cold metal blade: unexpected and unwanted. "Forgive my prying, but you're hiding something, Miss Katara, and I don't like it. What is going on with the prisoner? Why are you really here?"

Katara stiffens, her shoulders tense and a strong sense of anger surges through her.

"As the most elite Earthbender and head guard of this prison, I urge you to stop and answer my questions. Though technically I can't force you to reveal any of your personal business,"—Katara bites her lip, keeping silent—"I _am_ entitled to inquire about the state of the prisoner that I am responsible for. So, Miss, what will it be?"

Tao's tone reveals the options that he does not speak: she may come quietly and obediently, or he will force it out of her.

Katara brings her head down, her long hair loops dangling past her chin, brushing her jaw gently. She loosens the tray of food from her grasp, and it clatters to the floor, the wooden rice bowls toppling over and spewing their contents across a cold metal floor. Speckled with white, the normally dark floor appears strangely ominous, out of place, so horribly hard that her skull might crack should she be pinned down and should her head collide with the floor as hard as the food tray. The water basin is on the other side of the room, behind Tao; Tao is a strong, tall man with a sword hanging at his side.

She will comply.

She _must _comply.

Stiffly, daintily, she steps over the toppled tray of now-spoiled food. She stares at Tao. Waiting.

"What will it be?" Katara echoes, rolling the words off her tongue in a contemptuous, aggressive way that is so unlike her and like her all at once. She knows she does not have the power in this situation, nor can she fight. So she revels in what little she can gain over Tao—she hates being powerless, having a situation out of her control, like the last battle where she just couldn't save Toph and Sokka as they were slaughtered before her eyes. Brother and sister, dead, murdered brutally. And Aang—she might've had a chance, but she had lost her oasis water, and there is simply no bringing the dead back to life.

"The prisoner," Tao says stonily. Katara _knows_ he doesn't want to do this to her, but he has to do his job. Tao is not an evil man, but he is just concerned for his nation. Katara knows this, and it makes her even more angered.

"Why are you here? What are you doing to the prisoner? A week ago he was going to starve to death, and now he is eating with the appetite of a man twice his age and size. Why is that?"

"I came because I had no one left," Katara states quietly.

"Oh? And what of your Master and friends from the North? Are they not family to you as well? And what of Toph Bei Fong's parents? And the Earth King? And your _Tribe_?"

The mention of each person still alive is a strike to her heart, a needle tearing a tiny cut and spouting unseen blood. She hadn't wanted to trouble them. She wanted her family. She wanted her brothers and sister: Aang and Sokka and Toph. She was stupid, though, because she realizes now that others care for her besides those she wishes were still alive.

"My _family_!" Katara shouts at him, caught up in the moment and in her anguish and her anger. "They're all dead except for him."

Tao shakes his head sorrowfully. "You're suffering from shock, Miss Katara. You know that Fire Nation scum is not your family—your family is in the South. Let things be, Miss. It would be better if he died."

"How can you say that? How can you honestly think that an innocent person should die just because he can't choose his parents?"

"He can't live," Tao says solemnly.

"He can't die," Katara counters.

"Just what exactly," Tao says slowly, accentuating each word as if he's speaking to a five-year-old, "is he to you?"

Truth be told, Zuko and she had grown closer in a way that she had never expected. They had bonded through loss, and slowly, ever so slowly, she made progress with him. Each word spoken revealed more; each time they sat together, she penetrated through his defensive walls a bit more; each conversation lengthened over time until he would speak to her as he would his uncle. And Katara had been fascinated. She felt so sorry for him, and wanted to help him. Because, in the end, Zuko had been following his heart and, while he had still betrayed her, Katara understands that he cannot disobey his own heart's demands.

"I don't have to answer that question," Katara says angrily.

"It is not a matter of being required to do something, Miss Katara; you simply _must_. The Earth Kingdom cannot afford more betrayal, and it is obvious that you are very mentally unstable."

She sees the pity in Tao's eyes, and knows he really thinks she is crazy.

Well, maybe she _is_ crazy.

She doesn't care, though.

"I can't let you kill him."

"It's a terrible duty, but it is mine nonetheless."

"And it always has been?"

"Always."

After that, she does not hesitate: the basin-shaped block of ice slams into Tao's head from behind, and he collapses on the floor in a sickening heap.

There is no turning back now.


End file.
